


The Day I Met Ron Weasley

by lookoutlovers22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24821521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookoutlovers22/pseuds/lookoutlovers22
Summary: How about this—the day I met Ron Weasley I was hungover and I sat at the back of the class.*A little Romione drabble, Muggle AU
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 24





	The Day I Met Ron Weasley

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying my hand on Romione, so it might be a bit out of character. But I'm also like, in a frazzled state of mind (effects of a household coffee shortage), so I'm sorry this isn't longer.
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> "Harry, Harry please—do not go, stay here with me."
> 
> Harry looks at me with eyes filled with anger, and says, "I shall go, for you do not own me."

Harry Potter was an asshole—who was my friend, whom I loved very dearly. And I also was quite endeared to his boyfriend Draco, even though he was a giant pain in the ass and also a bloody ferret boy. The pair of them are actually quite nice company to keep, what with Harry's ever aloof self and Draco's pessimistic (and often egocentric) personality, they really balance each other out. It doesn't mean that I like spending upwards of five hours in their company though (God, no) as they are prone to many an accident which often results in injury and, on one memorable occasion, rampant house fires.

They were quite a match, I would like to say, and while Harry really does get carried away with things, Draco usually likes to _think_ about stuff. Harry doesn't get this, and so they usually banter and argue about a lot of things. Sometimes, they argue too much, and Harry ends up spending the night at my apartment where we usually end up eating inordinate amounts of ice cream and drinking through my wine collection.

One of those nights was this night, and as Harry once more recounted the story of their latest argument (a summary—Draco and Harry got into an argument about how Draco was too stuck up and how Harry was too quick to do something), he had said, "You know I love him, yes? And I would go back home—but I would still need some time to think. I do not think that it is the right decision to go back—and I'll show him that I _am_ capable not making decisions on a whim."

"You want to stay here for a few days?" I had asked, because I had come to expect this sort of behavior from Harry. In fact, before he and Draco had moved in together, we were flatmates. He still had his room in my flay as a result. I do not mind.

"Yes, if that's alright with you." Harry nods drunkenly, taking another sip of his wine. "It's just that I do love him, you know? But sometimes it still feels like he thinks I'm beneath him or something."

I nod in agreement, because I know very well that Draco Malfoy does sometimes do that. He was a bit of a prick, to be honest. I tell Harry so, and he cries. I did not expect him to—but I mean, Harry has the tendency to overthink.

"Yes! Yes he's such a fucking prick!" After saying that, Harry slumps on the sofa and falls into a blissful sleep.

And that is how we get to this moment. I find myself almost late for my first class in the morning with such a hangover that I am almost inclined to send in my excuse letter and wallow in bed. But since I am a big girl, I shall push through and go to class. Today I sat myself in the back, as to not draw attention to myself. I am pushing my tinted sunglasses up from where they have slipped down my nose when somebody sits down to me.

"You know, Mrs. McGonagall doesn't take well to wearing sunglasses in class. Trust me, I would know."

The voice is reminiscent of how someone would sound if they were the boy next door, and for a moment I am taken back to the suburbs in London where the houses are big and the community is small. I look towards this stranger, and my eyes are immediately assaulted by bright red hair and a friendly freckled grin. I feel my heart beating faster.

"I don't usually wear glasses inside her lectures, but I'm afraid my state leaves less to be desired." I say plainly, and the stranger grins more broadly, and shakes his head.

"I think you're er... I think you're very pretty." He says, bashfully. "Uhm—not that I uh—" he coughs a bit, "I'll just find another seat, maybe—"

He is moving to stand, so I grab his wrist. He turns the most delightful shade of red, almost as bright as his hair, and I say, "Thank you, um—"

"Ron. Weasley. Ron Weasley." He says.

Ron Weasley, huh?

"Well, Ron, my name is—"

"Hermione, yes. I know." He says, "I know..."

"Get a coffee with me?" I ask, because this boy is probably the most gorgeous human I've seen. "Please." I say, for maximum effect. Wouldn't do to make it seem like it was a command.

He startles for a moment, and then he bites his lip and says, "After class, yes."

And that, apparently, was that.


End file.
